


21

by RaspberryJuli



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, College Student Peter, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Humor, F/F, F/M, Fake Science, Friends to Lovers, I have no idea what I'm doing here, Like really slow, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader Needs a Hug, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends, but only in the prologue and in one (!) later chapter, dialoguing the shit out of this, healing process, in desperate need of a beta reader, so so many dialogues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-01-06 21:05:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18396341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryJuli/pseuds/RaspberryJuli
Summary: Prompt: Peter Parker is too late. It happens, he can’t be everywhere at the same time. But this time, it’s different. He knows her.A story about college, friendship, love, life, trust and healing.(trigger warning)





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) This is the first english story that I've ever written (and published oh my god what am i even doing here??) and I really hope the grammar and spelling is okay ^^' PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME WITH ANYTHING! I'm serious! I love criticism! 
> 
> So, I had this idea a couple of days ago and then I just started writing. I know, the prolog is very short, I promise the actual chapters will be longer ;) 
> 
> I don't own any of the Marvel Characters that appear here.

Something was off. 

It was almost midnight and the benefit of a warm July night made her walk home indefinitely more bearable. She never had any problems with walking to her dorms or her parents house alone or late at night, she was never afraid of the dark. After all, she got home safely for about 20 years, she never had any reasons to be paranoid.   
However, she knew that if someone was following her, and she didn’t have pepper spray with her, she had to run, as fast as she could. The only self-defence class she ever took was four years ago and she didn’t have any strength to begin with. But she could run.

Which she started doing as soon as she noticed a man following her through the streets on her way to her parents’ house. It wasn’t far from the subway station she exited three minutes ago, but far enough to be afraid he might catch up. She searched for her phone in her backpack. 

She looked around, desperate to find someone, anyone who might’ve helped her, but she was alone.   
Her eyes fell on a dark green door of a white house across from her. Didn’t an old classmate of hers live there? She sped up. 

Fifty steps. Only fifty steps until she’d reach the gate, she told herself.

Thirty steps, she hoped.

She counted twenty-one and not even a second later she was shoved face forward against a stone wall in an alley she didn’t even recognized. Her senses seemed to heighten as soon as a cold hand closed around her neck and she could feel another hand going down her pants. She could feel his breath in her neck and the sweat on his hands. She tried to kick the person behind her, squirming against the choke hold, even though that made her feel worse. Hopeless. Her eyes were filled with tears, the stones from the wall scrubbing on her face. She could feel herself becoming weaker, her legs were going limb, tired and unwilling to function. She could feel his hand violating her body, the most intimate part of her body. She could hear her lungs screaming for air, her brain screaming for her to scream, but she couldn’t get anything out. She couldn’t even breathe right and she really needed to breathe. She needed… she needed… she… breathe…

 

 

_“…breathe… C’mon, breathe…”_

 

Everything was blur. A weight was lifted from her. Then she fell. She felt herself falling to the ground, falling endlessly.

 

_“…what happened? Where is…”_

 

There was warmth and comfort. A familiar scent, very close by. And hands. Again. _No, not again_. It was soothing, comforting yet so… so uncomfortable.

 

_“…over here! over here! Over…”_

 

Red and blue lights flickered behind her eyes. Loud voices, sirens, were getting closer. Everything was so bright. So, so bright.

 

_“…police already left…”_

 

The world seemed to turn upside down for a second, but someone pushed her head back up softly, and held it close to… close to the person who carried her. She tried to breathe slowly, as if she wasn’t quite sure whether she was allowed to breathe. She closed her eyes and just breathed in this wonderfully calming scent.

 

_“…to the ambulance, now!”_

 

She could feel her conscience slipping away again, when her thoughts hit her with a, not particularly new, but sudden and confusing information.

 

_“…sir, you need to put her down…”_

 

“…Peter?”


	2. the first two days of many days to come (or not)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girl meets Peter. Peter meets Girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :D Thank you so much for the kudos and the comment. However, the next chapters won’t be as dark as it seemed at the beginning. 😉 I hope you like it anyway.  
> Love, Juli

“Alright folks, it’s time to talk about your final assignment. Now remember, this project makes 40% of your grade so you better not – how do you say that? Fuck it up. You better not fuck this up and yes you can quote me in this, because it’s important. Got it? Good.” Professor Serrano was probably one of the most chill teachers I have ever encountered in my entire life. He was also one of the strictest teachers: only 50% of the students taking his genetics classes passed. His motto was “Tough Love” and he was very good at it. “What is the assignment, you ask? First of all, I want you to pair up with your neighbour. I don’t care if you don’t know each other, _get to know_ each other. Now, introduce yourselves. Come on, it’s not that hard.”

Sighing, I turned to my left, but the girl in that seat was already involved in a conversation with someone else. On my right side sat a guy, who was offering me a small smile.  
“Hi, I’m Peter.” He reached out his hand and I shook it. “Peter Parker.  
“Nice to meet you, Peter. I’m…- “, but I couldn’t finish my sentence, because the guy behind us decided to let out his cold and sneezed freaking six times in a row.  
“Bless you, man.”, Peter said to the guy, who mumbled an embarrassed Thanks. After I made sure he was done for now, I introduced myself to Peter again.

“Does everyone have a project partner now?”, Professor Serrano’s voice echoed through the lecture hall. “If you get married, I want an invitation.” He grinned. “Alright, I uploaded a list of topics with multiple theses to each of them. Those theses can be your project of choice, but they’re also _suggestions_. I want you to look at it. Pick three and, _or_ , work out an abstract for each choice until next Monday. I’ll hand out the final list on Friday. Do not pick two theses from one topic branch. Choose wisely and do your best.” Professor Serrano looked around again and nodded to himself. “Good. I’m sure our TA George here can answer all your questions.” And with that he dismissed the class and we packed our bags.

“Hey, do you want to meet up for the project later?”, Peter asked me on the way out.  
“Sure.”, I smiled. “Does five work for you?”  
“Ugh, I have class at four. Are you free now, by any chance?”  
“Yeah. Wanna go grab some lunch?”  
“Lunch sounds great.”, he laughed. “Let’s go, I know the perfect place.”

We went to the campus cafeteria. But it was truly great, they had ‘Do it yourself’ – Burgers and Chocolate Pudding. We found two empty seats across from each other and just eased into small talk.  
“So, Peter, where are you from?”, I asked interested in not only the information but his mayonnaise, because I always forget to get some instead of ketchup and honestly, what are fries without mayo?  
“I’m from New York City. Queens, actually.” He smiled, obviously fond of his hometown. “Where are you from?”  
I sighed: “Boston. Unfortunately.”  
“Guess that explains your accent.”, he laughed, “But unfortunately? Boston is beautiful. Sure, it’s not New York, nothing compares to New York. But Boston makes a good second.”  
“I grew up here. And don’t get me wrong, the MIT is great, really. I’m honoured to be allowed to study here” _and to pay off my student depts the next 50 years_ “but Stanford would’ve been great as well. Or Columbia. I just feel like I’m stuck here, you know?”  
Peter nodded and placed two pieces of tomato on top of the lettuce on his burger. “I know. I didn’t actually believe that I got accepted until I arrived here. I thought there might have been a mix-up or something.”

“I don’t think colleges like these make mistakes.”, I smiled. Does he even eat his mayonnaise? So far, he had dipped his fries into his chocolate pudding. “So, tell me about New York City.”  
“You mean the greatest city in the world?” He smirked like he was a table tennis champion who had just accepted a beer pong challenge. Then he put on an exaggeratingly offended face. “Wait a second – have you never been to New York?”  
“Well, no.” An onion slice slipped from my burger onto the plate. “That’s pretty much why I’m asking.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you, dude.”, he stated jokingly. “Sure, I wasn’t going to say anything about the cheese-under-the-patty-debacle, but you have never been to New York? That probably explains why you don’t know how to put together a perfect burger.”  
I couldn’t help but to raise an eyebrow and a smile tucked at the corners of my mouth: “Excuse you, I know perfectly well how to build a burger.”  
“I don’t think so.”, he shook his head and took a sip from his water bottle. “C’mon, let’s change. May I?” He pointed at my half eaten, now onionless Burger.  
“Sure.”  
“Great. Here.” Peter took my plate and replaced it with his. “You really have to absorb all the ingredients at once.” He took my burger into his big hands and nodded to me to do the same. I’ve honestly never eaten someone else’s food or generally considered sharing food like that, but this was really fun. And _damn_ his burger tasted good. Really fucking good.  
“Oh my God, you’re so not getting this one back.”, I smiled down at the burger. I was in food heaven. “How did you do that? We had exactly the same ingredients.”  
“Yeah, but I obviously have better taste than you.”, he laughed.  
“I highly doubt that. This was just a lucky coincidence.”, I stated confidently and finally went for his mayonnaise, which he didn’t comment on. Instead, he just pushed it closer to the middle of the table. What a keeper.  
“We’ll see.”

We finished our lunch and exchanged numbers to meet up the next morning for breakfast and to pick our three theses for the project. Honestly, I didn’t think that I could’ve gotten a better assignment partner than Peter and it would be really fun to work with him on this project. We got along very well and that was all I could’ve hope for, for such an important grade.

At least that was what I thought.

 

 

…………………

 

 

“Where are you heading so early this morning?” My roommate Sophia was standing in the doorframe to the bathroom, straightening her deep brown hair, while I ran around in our room, searching for my phone and headphones.  
“I’m having a breakfast meeting with my project partner for the generics course,”, I answered. And there was my phone. Right on my bed, where I should’ve looked first. “Have you seen my headphones anywhere?”  
“They’re probably in your jacket.” They were.  
“Thanks, Sophia.”

I had to admit that Sophia Rooks was the best roommate I could’ve ever wished for. We were living together ever since freshman year (so… a little bit over a year now) and thankfully hit it off from the start. She had enrolled the MITs undergrad program for biological engineering at the same time as I started with the undergraduate program for brain and cognitive sciences. It took us some time to get used to living with each other, but aside from some starting difficulties, we managed pretty good.  
If anything, Sophia quickly became one of my best friends. Opening up to each other felt natural for us and I loved that she was getting along with my childhood best friend Alex as well. Both of them loved to cook together and for their friends, so they would often host gatherings. Sometimes we’d all came over to Alex, some other times, we would pile up in our small but comfy dorm.  
Honestly though, without Sophia I wouldn’t have gotten through my first year at all. She was three years older than me and my rock (one of my rocks). She was… We were… Well, we were just us. There really aren’t good enough words or metaphors to describe our relationship. We just fit.

“Anytime. So, this project partner of yours – she cute?”  
I laughed. “His name is Peter and he is really easy going. Like, he’s from New York and changed food with me when we were halfway through lunch yesterday? I don’t know, but I think this project won’t be as bad as I thought it would be after all.” I shrugged and checked my phone. It was 09:20am. Time for breakfast. “I just really hope he doesn’t want to do anything with plants.”  
“Plants? I don’t think you have to grow a plant together as a project.” Sophia grinned.  
“No, but there are some topics where we could test mutation theories on plants. Prove some already given thesis and stuff. ”  
“That sounds interesting. Why don’t you want to do it? And what _do_ you want to do?”  
“It is interesting, don’t get me wrong. But, I don’t know, there are so many possibilities! Especially with CRISPR in the game. I would love to get the opportunity to gain some insights on gene editing and maybe even work with zinc-finger nucleases.”  
“But you can apply ZFN on plants as well. There is a research group in my neighbour lab who’s working with zinc-finger nucleases on zebrafish. I mean, they are trying, but they did their first rounds last year on some plants. I could give them your contact if you want.”, Sophia offered, brushing her now straight hair.  
“That’s sweet of you, but I gotta talk to Peter first. And plants always die when they see me.” I checked my phone again.  
“Don’t I know it.”, Sophia huffed. “Have fun.”  
“You too! “  
“Thank you. See you later at Alex’s place?”  
“Sure.”

 

 

…………………

 

 

Peter and I had agreed on meeting at one of those bagel shops off campus. I was running a little bit late (almost forgot my keys, so I had to run back to the dorms), but he didn’t seem to mind. He however did mind my food choices. Again.  
“Why do you settle for plain cream cheese when you can have bacon and eggs on your bagel?”, he asked dumbfounded.  
“Because there’s nothing better than a simple cream cheese bagel.”, I smiled and pulled my laptop out of my bag.  
“There is.”, he deadpanned. “Literally anything is better than cream cheese. Peanut butter, for example.”  
“Crunchy or cream?”  
“Both. Speaking of it, you have cream cheese on your chin.”, Peter pointed out.  
I brushed my fingers over my chin. “Thanks.” He smiled a small smile and nodded.

“So, I checked out Professor Serrano’s list last night. What do you think about the topics?”  
“I think there are some really good ones and many with great potential for a fun project. But frankly I would love it if we could avoid working with plants. I’m not really the plant kind of person.”  
“Right… but you do know that plants would be the most effective research subjects.”  
I sighed, picking a few sesame seeds from my bagel. “Plants die when I look at them. I don’t even have to look at them, it’s enough for them to be near me.” Peter looked like he didn’t know if I was serious or if he was allowed to laugh at me. “I’m just really bad with plants and I’m sure it’s a mutual dislike, not an ability or something.” I smiled a little bit embarrassed and let out a breathy laugh.

“That’s unfortunate.”, Peter laughed. “What do you study anyways? I’m sorry, I completely forgot to ask you yesterday. The burger incident was really traumatic for me.”  
“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.” He laughed again. “But I study Brain and Cognitive Science. What do you study?”  
“I’m studying Chemical-Biological Engineering.”  
“That’s cool. My roommate is studying Biological Engineering. So, what are the topics you’re interested in?”  
“Basically anything related to science. Well, biology isn’t my strong suit, but it’s okay, I guess. I mean, it’s a big part of my study, I’m just not that into it.”  
I laughed. “That’s pretty much how I feel when it comes to physics. It’s one of those necessary basic courses that I just want to get over with.”  
“I could help you out with physics, if you want to.” His eyes widened a little bit in panic over what he had just said. “Not that I’m assuming you would need help with it, just…”  
I shot him a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, I know what you mean. And I might take you up on that offer, so… thank you. But you can come to me anytime when you want to go over biology-related material.”  
“That seems like a fair deal.” Peter said relieved and smiled as well. He took a pack half and half milk and poured it into his coffee. “So, which of Professor Serrano’s topics would you like to choose?”

We spent about two hours discussing each and every topic and theses, only to cross most of them out. It was hopeless. Peter and I couldn’t agree on _anything_. I was so fucking close to waterboard him with my hazelnut coffee when we talked through one of my preferred research topics from Professor Serrano’s selection and I’m pretty sure he was very close to throw a knife at me when it came to his favourite thesis. We got along well, but obviously not with genetics.

“There is absolutely no evidence for that!”, Peter said loud and pretty pissed.  
“That’s why it would make a good project.”, I argued. “I mean, finding evidence is _literally_ our assignment with this topic here.”  
“Evidence for a thesis that fucking makes sense. Look, cream cheese bagel, I don’t doubt your intelligence, but this is bullshit.” _Cream cheese bagel? You kidding me?_ “And now I’m swearing. I never swear. This is insane.”  
I sighed exhausted. “Next topic then? Unless you have something better to offer.” Peter ran his left hand through his hair and tucked at it. He did that a lot, apparently. “How many did we rule out already?”  
I checked the list again and did a quick count. “Twenty-one.”  
Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “It would be easier if you didn’t veto every suggestion that has remotely to do with plants.”, he sighed.  
I shook my head. “I just showed you the pictures of my old room plants, didn’t I? We would be doomed if we did this. And don’t come me with _I could take care of the greens_. That not only sounds like we’d be growing weed in the lab, but…-”  
“…but what if I’m not there for a week or something.” He rolled his eyes. “Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t know how to water a plant.”  
“Peter. No. Plants.”, I said after letting out an annoyed to angry breath.  
He raised his hands defensively. “Fine. No plants.”  
“Thank you.”  
“But then we’ll not take topics with fish either.”, he added quickly and sipped at his third cup of coffee.  
“Excuse me?”  
“Yep. No fish.” He shrugged. “I don’t like fish; you don’t like plants. It’s only fair.”  
“Fine. No fish.”

We crossed off another six topics from the list, which was getting shorter and shorter. After thirty minutes we finally agreed on _something_ : a change of scenery and need for something sweet to calm down. We left the bagel café and headed down the road until we reached a cupcake shop named “The Flower Crown” where we ordered four cupcakes each, out of pure desperation and in need of sugar. Peter looked at my flavour choices and was already opening his mouth when he caught my eye. He knew, that if he would say anything about that now, I would probably throw myself at him (and not in the needy way). I could hear him mumble something about _Rose and Caramel_ but he didn’t say anything out loud. Good. This wasn’t fun. but least the cupcakes were good.

We were down three and a half cupcakes each when we started talking about the project again and then fucking finally had three subjects and three thesis-approaches standing. I felt like I just had taken the SAT’s again. This was really something I didn’t want to go through a second time, but something about Peter told me that it certainly wouldn’t be the last conversation we’d have like this.  
We were both too exhausted to stand up, so we bought two more cupcakes and this time he couldn’t hold back. So, we talked about cupcakes, frostings and whether or not there should be fruit pieces in muffins or ice cream (“It’s not fruit, it’s fake chemical junk that doesn’t even taste like fruit. Peter, if I want strawberries, I eat real strawberries.” - “Are you kidding me? It’s the best part!”).

We left the cupcake shop in the early afternoon and I couldn’t help buying extra cupcakes for my friends tonight. I was looking forward to a fun evening with the gang, especially since Sophia and Alex promised to cook.

Alex, short for Alexander, was my best friend since kindergarten. We had spent our time together building and destroying sandcastles, playing hide and seek and begging our parents to let us build a treehouse. (They had said no, so we built forts instead.) Keeping up our friendship throughout the years was fairly easy: we went to every school together and spent most of the weekends with each other. We had the same friends and it didn’t take our families long to always count the other one in. Seriously, Alex was invited to my cousin’s wedding last year and he even allowed to bring a plus one, if he had wanted to. We have been through a lot together, but being admitted to the most prestige universities worldwide still shocked us on a daily basis. Alex was a very proud pre-med student at Harvard University and him staying here in Boston was probably the second-best thing that has happened to me after graduation. His parents allowed him to move into his grandmother’s old apartment, which was close to his campus and rent free for him. And since he had a room to spare, he had decided to rent it to other students to earn some money on the side. He had gone through quite a lot of roommates within the year he lived there now and some of them were seriously… weird. Like, there was this one girl who moved out after a week, because she couldn’t stand Alex walking around without socks on his feet. And then there was this guy who always locked his room door until Homeland Security came by to kick it down. Alex made sure to ask every applicant a lot of question before giving them a key after that. As corny as it might sound like: Alex and I were friends for life and there was absolutely nothing that could come between us. Nothing. I went over to Alex place after my afternoon biology course. The smell of self-made Chicken Tikka Masala and apple pie had already filled the stairwell. It smelt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Please leave me your opinion <3 I hope you have a great weekend ahead!!


	3. lazy mondays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About Alexander Radrow, Charlie Nimmens and a lazy monday spent with a lot of talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… this chapter is kind of a mediocre fill-in chapter that took me three months to write and I’m really sorry about that. It’s not Peter-based, instead it focuses more on the reader and her friendships, especially to Alex.  
> I really hope you'll like it anyways :) (If not, I'm always open for your opinions, all of them!! ;))
> 
> Please read the **warnings at the end of the chapter! ******

Urban Dictionary states that Monday is largely the most disliked day of the week. Usually, I’d disagree (fuck Thursdays), but this Monday had it out for me. Well, Monday and Peter Parker. It’s been ten days since Prof. Serrano had sent us our assigned topic and not one day went by without me trying to let my phone run dead so that I could avoid Peter’s Twelve-Step-Plan for the project. This morning was the first time we had met up since our bagel-breakfast and it was so draining. We mostly fought over his plan and its essence of not being realistic (it sucked so much that Siemens and Bosch both wanted to patent it for their new vacuum cleaners). In its fundamentals, it was a great plan, really, but he kind of forgot that we didn’t have a fifty thousand dollar founding for our assignment and that the lab equipment wasn’t always the newest high-tech shit other study groups got. You know, the ones that were trying to cure cancer and were working on possible vaccines for several diseases. The important kind of work. Although, if we were to win a nobelprize over our final project, I wouldn’t object to it. Just sayin’.

He also had most of the steps designed around himself, since he obviously didn’t know much about how _I_ worked. Which was fair in theory, but really disappointing regarding our teamwork. Well, supposed teamwork. Hopefully future-teamwork.  
After establishing a more realistic plan about how much time we could spend on research and on what data bases we should rely on, I was ecstatic to finally get to Alex’s place. He and Charlie had called out for a spontaneous breakfast around seven o clock, which was why I didn’t eat anything before meeting with Peter. Okay, so, _maybe_ Peter wasn’t so bad and _maybe_ it was just be being hangry. Maybe.

“You look like you could use some maple syrup with pancakes.”, Alex stated, after pulling me in one of his hugs. As much as I loved Alex, his hugs were kind of weird. He first pulls someone into a crushing but very comfortable bear hug. But then he let’s go, and pushes his upper body out, so that he unintentionally body-checks the person out of his arms. I grew up with his kind of hugs, but it took Sophia a couple of weeks to get used to them. (“I just don’t know where I stand with him. It feels like he always regrets hugging me, mid-hug!”)  
But what Alex lacked in hugging-skills he made up with cuddles and food. Lots of food. He learned how to cook from his uncle Eddie, who had spent almost two years living in India, traveling and writing articles for some newspaper in Europe. To be fair, Eddie tried to teach all of us how to cook, but Alex was the one with a culinary talent. He loved to explore as many recipes as he could get his hands on, and he was one of those guys that stood up early for farmers markets and food courts. One can imagine what happened when Alex met Sophia, the self-proclaimed goddess of Italian and Mediterranean food. (And she was, kind of. She might not be Italian, but she just really, _really_ loves their food. Then again, who doesn’t?) I couldn’t remember when we started to hang out at Alex’ place to enjoy food and each other’s company so often, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. Cooking was an immense stress relief for Sophia and Alex, so they usually went out to get groceries together. And honestly? I couldn’t be happier about them getting along so well (and filling our fridges and stomachs in the process).

I beamed at Alex. “Maple syrup sounds great.”  
“Hey kiddo, your timing is perfect.”, Charlie greeted me as I sat down at the dark wooden dinner table that stood in the centre of the sunlight room. “We can’t make a decision whether or whether not we should get into ice hockey.”  
“Or Baseball.”, Alex chimed in.  
I raised an eyebrow at them. “Why do we need to get into a sport at all?”  
Sophia, who sat across from me and was reading some engineering journal, sighed, without looking up from her article. She looked thoroughly tired and didn’t bother hiding it at all. Though, she didn’t need to, of course. Not with us anyway. “We’re all single and we should get into a new scene.”  
“And since we love our usual pubs, bars and gyms…” Charlie stopped to stuff almost half a pancaked in his mouth.  
“…we need a new scene.”, Alex finished for him and handed me a full plate. I loved him.  
“I love you.” I smiled and thanked him.  
He grinned and rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. I know you guys only keep me around for the food.”  
“Sure. So, ice hockey or baseball?”, Charlie asked again.  
“What about football?”  
“American Football is so brutal.” Sophia sighed again.  
“Sure, because ice hockey is known to be the world’s safest sport.”, I huffed. “But didn’t you have a date with that Starbucks barista last night?”  
She sighed for the third time, but put her magazine away. “It was one of the worst dates I’ve ever been on, if I can even call that a date. Please don’t get me started, I frankly just want to forget it.”  
“So, should we get tickets for the next Bruins game here in Boston?”, Charlie asked excited. “We could try both. Or we could go to a game outside of Boston. There are other sports teams in Massachusetts. And Connecticut isn’t that far. Oh, we could make a weekend-trip to New York City! Or Chicago! There’s no harm in that, right?” He shortly stopped eating when he noticed our stares. “Oh, _I’m sorry_. Am I the only one who hasn’t got laid in weeks?”  
“Yes.” We answered unison. Charlie rolled his eyes and got back to his pancakes.  
Alex smirked. “Alright, let’s find you some angels, Charls.”

The point was: Charlie didn’t actually need angels, he _was_ the angel. We probably wouldn’t be as close as we were now without Charlie. Alex and I might’ve grown up together, and Sophia was my roommate, but Charlie was the glue that held us all together. He was the one who hosted the bi-weekly _Dr.Who_ -marathons. He and his three flatmates held karaoke nights at the beginning and the end of each term – the winner had ultimate bragging rights and alcohol poisoning on more than one occasion – and he loved musicals seemingly endlessly. Charlie went to see _Hamilton_ on Broadway like half a year ago and he was still singing the soundtrack non-stop. (Pun intended.) He was the only one of us who declared a war against science (“We just don’t have chemistry!”) and iced coffee (“Why? _Why_?”) and I firmly believe that he’s secretly writing a book about all of us. But then again: who wouldn’t?  
Charlie was also the one who made sure that we’d all have a full bottle of maple syrup in our kitchens at all time, because he loved that stuff so much, there were very few things he would eat without it. (He made us eat vanilla ice cream with maple syrup once. It was amazing.)

The relaxed atmosphere of our impromptu-brunch was exactly what I needed after the morning I had. Perhaps I shouldn’t make a habit out of meeting Peter before I had breakfast. _Perhaps_.  
Alex looked up the Bruins schedule online and got all of us tickets for the next game in TD Garden, which was almost two weeks away from now.  
Charlie told us about his next play, in which he wasn’t acting on stage, but he helped writing the screen play, so we all marked down the performance date on our calendars. Although Charlie’s plays weren’t always fun to watch (no one ever dared to talk about The Birdwatching Incident ever again), I was really looking forward to this one. We all were, since Charlie made us proofread his script like a million times before he handed it in. This play was his baby, but it kind of felt like we were all godparents. Proofreading Charlie’s plays or helping him learn his lines was always fun. Those were the nights we would come together, drink a bit of wine (“to feel sophisticates, not because your plays are bad, Charls!”) and have the very first table read (or the second, or third) of his scripts. We didn’t drink every time, of course. Especially not when he had to remember his lines or it was the last read before Charlie would turn his assignments in or when he needed our critical (sober) opinions. Anyhow, no one ever missed proofreading-nights.

 

However, it wasn’t long until all the food was gone or packed up for the next day, and Sophia and Charlie left for their early afternoon classes. They left Alex and me behind with the wonderful feeling of a free afternoon and there was nothing greater than the feeling one can stay at home whereas their friends have to go to school or work. Not to be mean, of course.  
We made ourselves comfortable on his couch with some super not-healthy chips, gummibears, a couple of fuzzy blankets and cups of tea. The couch was a piece of art, if anything. It once was dark red, but the colour faded away over time. There were stains here and there, two big patches on the edge and a very dark circle, where a small fire was put out a couple of months ago . She, her name was Polly, was at least twenty-one years old and told more stories than any book of George R. R. Martin ever could. We all feared the day this beauty would quit her service - no other couch could ever live up to Polly.

Anyhow, Alex and I didn’t have the chance to spend some time together for some days now, our schedules didn’t give us the opportunity to and something always came up when they did. I think the last time we saw each other was almost two weeks ago.

 

 

…………………

 

 

“So, we can’t just get into it like we would with any other topic. We’ll have to be really careful about the methods we use as well as the points we want to make.”  
Alex frowned. “I don’t get why you’re working yourself up about this. It’s just a project, not your dissertation.”  
“Yes, but this is gene editing we’re talking about. It’s severely dangerous if the wrong people get their hands on tech and actual lab protocols. Gene editing on human mutations – _if_ it’s possible, would be utterly horrifying. Image some crazy ass parents who would want their children to be different and who would just let someone change who they are. Imagine dictators forcing their nation to alter their genetic codes. Imagine governments trying to create their own perfect army…-”  
“Like the States did with Steve Rogers back in World War II?”, Alex interjected unimpressed.  
“Kind of…” I nodded, but then shook my head. “But not really. Imagine a DNA string” I held up my hands as if I would measure something between them. “And now imagine there being different codes for, like, the colour of your eyes of the pigment of your skin. And then imagine there being a code for a certain mutation, for example you skin being fire proof. The theory and hope of gene editing is, that you can find things like hereditary diseases and, you know, cut them out, basically.”  
Alex laughed. “You _do_ know that I’m studying medicine, right?”  
“I’m sorry, I’m just so used explaining Charlie the stuff that I learn, because you guys already know it all!” I apologized quickly, but he waved it away with a wink.  
“So you’re afraid of people trying to cut mutations out?”  
“If mutations are manifested in the genetic code and if they’re editable, yes. But if that’s possible, _if_ , then we would have to be afraid of adding mutations as well.”  
“But why would mutations be editable with gene editing? Why would they be editable at all?”  
“It’s a theory, one of many, actually. It has never been proofed and we could be wrong with the assumption – I really hope we’re wrong. See, there is this method called liquid biopsies. And through liquid biopsies you can find out whether there is tumor-DNA, which is cell-free DNA, in your blood, because yes, that _is_ possible.”  
“What the fuck is liquid biopsies?”  
I raised my eyebrows at him.  
“Relax, I’m just kidding.”, He held his hands up, grinning. “So you mean that if it’s possible to have tumor-DNA in your blood, it might be possible that mutations leave genetic information as well?”  
“Exactly!”, I exclaimed excited. “That’s one of the big questions here. What if mutations leave genetic information on your blood?”

“What are the other questions?”, Alex asked.  
“Well, there’s still the mystery around the famous and overly discussed _super soldier serum_. It started the mutation on Steve Rogers by an injection in the blood cycle, but it was combined with high voltages of gamma-radiation whereas the serum Bucky Barnes was injected with…-“  
“Didn’t need radiation at all.”  
“Right. So, one theory states that it was the serum that gave Rogers his powers, but the radiation was responsible for the fitting body, which would align with Dr. Banner’s famous lab accident. But there is this group of scientists in New Zealand that has been trying to prove that he didn’t actually need the serum and that the injections were a total bust, which is why no one ever managed to recreate it. Which they can’t legitimately confirm because serum research and testing lab-created mutations on humans is highly illegal. However, they have a huge base of supporters for their theory, even though they can’t explain what happened to Bucky Barnes if it were true.”

“Because Barnes was injected with a different serum.”  
“Allegedly, not. Rumor has it that Hydra agents stole phials of the same serum they used on Rogers, but they didn’t inject that into Barnes. So… yes, basically. But no one knows how the two serums differ from each other or they were the same after all. Additionally, Barnes wasn’t exposed to any radiation whatsoever. But his body could’ve had more adrenaline and noradrenaline distribution than Steve Rogers at the time. You know, given his situation as a prisoner of war whereas Rogers volunteered to the experiment. Rogers was located in a save environment, he wasn’t afraid of the possibility to die.”  
Alex nodded. “This might sound a bit weird and frankly cruel, but it’s Hydra we’re talking about and given their past and Barnes past…”  
“What do you mean?”  
“What if they _did_ use radiation on him? But, you know, wiped his mind or had him under drugs during the process?”  
“They didn’t wipe his mind until after they used the actual Winter Soldier serum on him. And that one definitely worked without radiation.”  
“No, I’m talking about what supposedly had gone down in Azzano, when he was a prisoner of war the first time.”  
“Yeah, I know… It’s officially unknown, but I’m sure Stark and Dr. Banner have figured it all out by now… my goodness, that man has been through so much, he literally deserves all the hugs and kitten in the world.”, I sighed and shoved a hand full of chips in my mouth.  
“That is so true. So sad, yet so true.”  
“…”  
“…”  
“Do you think we should adopt a kitten and name it Bucky?”  
Alex shook his head and drank the rest of his tea. “No.”  
“Why not?!”  
“No, honey, please don’t do that. It’s a sweet idea, but you can’t even take care of a plant.”  
“That’s not true. What an outrage.”, I lazily tried to defend myself.  
“Oh yeah? Name one example of a happy plant in your apartment.”  
“I never had a happy plant…”  
“See. If you don’t have a happy plant, how can you have a happy cat?” He got up from the couch and went over to the kitchen to boil water. “Do you want another cup of tea?”  
“No thanks, I’m good.” I turned around to him, my left hand still buried in the bag of sour cream and onion chips Hey, what if we adopted a kitten or two and then send them to the Avengers Compound to him. You know, get Bucky Barnes kittens.” “  
Oh my God, yes! That is the best idea you’ve ever had!” Alex beamed at me, the falseness of his smiled radiating from him in even waves.  
I smiled, though I already knew his answer. “Really?”  
He switched off his beam within a second and shook his head pitying, just as I thought he would. “No, not so much.” We laughed. “Though, I have to admit that the thought of Bucky Barnes raising kittens is the most adorable shit I’ve heard so far.”  
“Maybe he has his own private zoo with animal babies.”  
“Oh God.”  
“Koala bear babies and little giraffes and tiny baby hamsters and a bearded Bucky Barnes right in the middle of them all.”  
“Please stop.”

He came back with another cup of tea and grabbed the gummi bears to open them and probably eat them all by himself, as usual. “So I take it you don’t want to get into the serum-research?”  
“No, not really. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fascinating, as well as the question of how exactly Spiderman got his powers. But it’s not exactly something I would want to focus my whole career on. What I personally find very interesting is the question of inheritance. Could mutations be inherited? Would it be the same mutation or can you only inherit something like a carrier-gene for mutations? _Are there_ carrier genes for mutations and can you edit them? What about people like Carol Danvers and the Maximoff twins who gained their mutations through external influence like pure energy blasts? Are their powers even comparable to mutations or are they just gifted? Where are the differences between mutants and gifted and can you inherit the powers of someone gifted? Stuff like that.”  
“But isn’t your assignment about the heritage of mutations?”  
I took a sip from my own lukewarm tea and beamed at Alex. “Yeah, it is. But enough about me, what’s new in your life?”

 

“No, no, no! You’re not getting away so easily”, he laughed. “Why are you so stressed and upset when this is clearly something you’re passionate about?”  
I couldn’t hold the sigh in, that slipped out of my mouth, though I tried. “It’s just… My project partner, Peter, he’s… I don’t know, I wish I could hate him, but he’s such a sweet guy and I really don’t want to fight with him, but I’ve never been a pushover, you know?”  
“What do you mean? A pushover how?”  
“Well, he’s really smart. Like, not book-smart, but _smart-smart_. He’s just very, very intelligent.”  
Alex frowned. “Is he one of those guys who want to let everyone know how great they are?”  
“Oh no, absolutely not. He’s really sweet and fun and a cute mixture between introvert and extrovert… but he made this great plan for our assignment and it’s just way too advanced for the technology we have here. He toyed around with possible theories from studies that haven’t been made public yet. Like, do you remember the rumour that got leaked a year ago? The one about our government working on power-blocking weapons? It never got confirmed that they even _tried_ working on them, but Peter just assumed test-results of different runs. I mean, he had some very valid and realistic explanations, but we can’t just quote his genius mind, you know?”  
“Eh, well…”  
“And then there is the fact that he didn’t really involve me in his plan. To be fair, he doesn’t know me, but it still hurts? So I’m asking myself, will it be like this the whole time? Okay, fine, he’s used to being the smartest guy around, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t contribute to the project.”  
“But wasn’t today your first actual project-meeting?”  
“Yes. And I had this layout and thought it was good all and he just… I don’t know. I feel left out of our own two-person-group. I don’t like being left behind, I just don’t like being made invisible like that. Please don’t get me wrong here, he was really oblivious about it. Peter’s just as passionate about this topic as I am, but he is so excited and his mind definitely works faster than mine and… and…-“ I trailed off, massaging my temples with my chips-free hand.  
“And it’s too fast?” As usual, Alex hit the right spot dead on.  
I couldn’t deny that admitting the truth hurt a lot. “Yes. But I don’t want to seem stupid.”

“Oh no, honey, you’re not stupid.”, Alex immediately exclaimed and put his tea cup on the coffee table to pull me onto his chest and hold me close with his arms around me. If I could, I would write _Cuddling with Alex_ on my CV under favourite things and hobbies. “There will always be people out there who are smarter than you, I mean, you _do_ remember that you’re studying at The MIT, right? Like, you’ll always be surrounded by intelligent people, but honey, you’re _one of them_. Don’t you dare forget that, alright? And I’m sure that Peter has his own Peter’s out there.”  
“He accidentally told me he was a personal intern for Tony fucking Stark until he left for college. Like, it slipped out of his mouth and he looked so scared as if I would… I don’t know what he was afraid of, but he seemed really uncomfortable with people knowing.”  
“Okay, so, maybe there is a very small amount of Peter’s for Peter in this world.”  
“I googled _Tony Stark_ and _Intern_ on my way over and Tony Stark only ever had one personal intern, so… I’m pretty sure that _Peter_ is the famous anonymous intern who helped Tony Stark and Dr. Banner figure out the concept of time travel within two days.”  
“…”  
“…”  
“…”  
“Yeah. I know.”  
“But, I mean… you’re still smart.”  
“Gee, thanks Alex.”, I huffed and looked up to my best friend. His warm smile hit me right in the centre of my heart.  
“I’ll love you even if you’re the dumbest girl in Massachusetts.”  
“Now that’s more like it.”, I chuckled and scooted closer to him, to press a light kiss on his jaw. His smile widened. “Now, tell me about your weeks. How have you been?”

 

Turns out, Alex has been great. His study group was doing well and the kids he tutored in High School Biology scored some decent grades on their last tests. And he made himself an account on _Tinder_ ("because why the fuck not?").  
We spent the rest of our day on his couch, only getting up when it was absolutely necessary and exchanging stories. What the hell had happened on Sophia’s apparently disastrous date with the barista, for example.  
“Oh right.”, Alex nodded. “Must have been one big fail. Sophia said the girl was two hours too late and had then claimed that someone tried to mug her and Spiderman had come to save her.”  
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. “Seriously?”  
“Yep.” He nodded, picking a couple of red gummi bears from the bag. “I mean, she could’ve at least picked some local superhero, not someone who we all know is based in some district in New York City.”  
“Well, if I would ever be mugged, hypothetically, of course, I think I would like to be saved by Daredevil.”, I mused.  
“Ugh, please don’t get me started on Daredevil.”  
“Why not?”  
“Because he’s like, super hot!”, Alex exclaimed frustrated. “He has this tight suit and deep voice and covered eyes – he literally screams steamy and rough sex.”  
“Alex!”  
“Oh please, like you’ve never thought about Daredevil choking you with his sexy hands. Or tighs.”  
“Well, sure.”, I admitted truthfully, “but it’s not like sexy hands are a thing. In general, I mean.”  
“That’s not the point. The point is, that if Daredevil would save me from a hypothetical mugging, I’d probably drop to my knees the second he appeared. No offense to Spiderman, but I’d rather have Daredevil fuck me against a dirty back alley.”  
“And because of the big spider on Spiderman's chest?” I emptied my tea cup, which has been getting colder by the minute, and put it next to Alex’ on the coffee table.  
“Yes and also: what if he’s sticky?”  
“That’s a valid point… I’ve never actually thought about that before. But sure, nobody likes running face first into a spider web. Or touching spiderwebs at all… It’s seriously icky.” A shiver ran through my body at the thought of that.  
“Who says Spiderman’s webs are involved in his sexual life?”  
“Who says they _aren’t_?!”  
Alex sighed with a sad look on his face. “Well, there go my Spiderman-fantasies.”  
“…”  
“…”

“Where were we again?”, I asked, trying to get back on track with our previous topic.  
“Right! Sophia’s date with Elena.”  
“No, I think her name was Eliza. Remember when Charlie tried to hit on her by singing _Helpless_?”  
Alex grinned. “Oh, I’ll never erase that video from my phone.”  
“She did sing along though. It was such a cliché rom-com moment, kind of epic to be honest.”  
Alex hummed in agreement. “I want someone to sing _Hamilton_ songs to me too. Or other beautiful songs. Nothing corny or erotic, that one would die from second-hand embarrassment, but something nice. You know, like Charlie did.”  
“ _How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a_ …-“  
“Please don’t.”, he groaned, but couldn’t hide the smile that tucked at the corners of his mouth.  
“ _But when I fantasize at night it’s Alexander’s eyes, as I romanticize what might have been if_ …-”  
“That’s not even from the same song.”, Alex interrupted, now full on laughing.  
“Doesn’t matter, you asked for it.”  
“I meant something nice.”  
“You said _Hamilton_!”  
“Yeah, but like, _Helpless_ or _Wait For It_. I want someone to wait for me. Or to see the sky in my eyes. Seriously, is that too much to ask for?”  
I sighed empathetically. “Apparently yes. You know, given the fact that we are single as fuck.”  
“I want an epic love story. Honey, where are our epic love stories?”  
“I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t need an epic love story. Just a love story would be fine as well. Or just love. Who needs a story anyway, I just want someone to love and for them to love me. That can’t be hard to find, right?”  
“Exactly.” Alex smiled softly, disregarding how desperate we sounded to say: “But then again, they might be right around the corner. Who knows?”  
“Maybe you’re right.” I sighed and rested my head on his chest. His fingers found my hair immediately.  
“Well, and if not then we’ll still have our sad asses to keep each other company.”  
I looked up at him. “Really? You wouldn’t ditch me if Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes would knock on your bedroom door?”  
“No, I wouldn’t. I’d never ditch you for anyone. Not even for Bucky Barnes’ metal arm.”

Alex squeezed me for a moment and combed his fingers through my hair. I loved to savour moments like these, when it was just the two of us. Sure, we didn’t see each other as often as we used to, back in High School, but in the end, there was nothing that could come between us. Nothing.  
We turned on _Homeland_ shortly after and spent the rest of the day binge-watching, because who would say no to Claire Danes saving America on a Monday afternoon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings (about): ******  
> \- occasional swear words  
>  \- casual use and abuse of alcohol (alcohol poisoning) mentioned – please note that all the characters in this fanfiction are over 21 years old and therefore legal. I write about drinking alcohol casually not only because I’m legal as well, but because **I expect readers who click on mature-rated content to act mature and to not drink when they’re underaged. ******  
> \- casual mentioning and discussion of sex, sexual fantasies and a few kinks  
>  \- lots and lots of fake as fuck science  
> \- so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so many dialogues
> 
>  
> 
> You can catch me on my very boring tumblr (raspberryjulii) if you want – I’ll answer each and every one of your texts and complaints because let’s be honest, who doesn’t love mail and feedback. 😉

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope I have intrigued you to keep reading ;)  
> And I really love comments, even if you don't have anything good to say about this :D Seriously!!
> 
> (...and I'm in desperate need of a Beta Reader or just someone who can give me feedback on my idea for the longterm of the story? Idk, I kinda feel a little bit lost with this but I don't want this story to fall asleep somewhere on my laptop)


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